So the kids are grown and out on their own. You have the freedom to be having sex anywhere you want and anytime you want, but you notice a noise at the foot of the bed. It’s the dog, the one that your youngest child convinced you to get when the former family pet died. Your daughter was eighteen at the time and heading off to college, but you’d always had a dog and this one was the cutest thing. You get the dog and a year later your baby’s off to college but the dog is still there. Now you have the vet bills and the boarding bills (because you want to travel) and you have to walk, feed, and play with the dog. Don’t get me wrong, we love our dog. In fact if my husband had to choose between the dog and some members of the family (me included) the dog would be the hands down winner.
A year ago when our daughter got her own place, I suggested she take the dog to live with her. After all it was her that wanted the dog initially. You would have thought I had murdered someone. My husband wouldn’t speak to me for days. But I’m the one home with the dog day in and day out. I’m the one that makes all the plans for boarding and grooming and I’m the one the dog hates when he gets a shot or I leave him at the kennel. And, honestly, the dog is kind of neurotic. When we leave him at the kennel, it takes a couple weeks for him to become socialized back into the group. We finally reached an agreement that when we travel one of the kids takes the dog to their home so he isn’t left at the kennel. The way I figure if I travel enough they’ll have him as much as I do. See win, win.